The Mysteries of London; or, Revelations of the British Metropolis — page 372: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

370 MYSTERIES her heart contained. But suffering love has not thought but for itself. Ophelia had quite forgot- ten the letter, and was passing in review, all the fond recollections of a tore which has cost her s0 dear, Long before this, Rio Santo hail regained his carriage. Bembo might have remarked a cloud upon his brow at the moment when he seated himself upon its silken cushions, and when the coachman asked where be was to HYBs the mar- quis absently replied : J know not. We are doubtless to return to Irish House? said Angelo. No, no, hastily returned the marquis, whose faculties seemed to be absorbed by some mo- mentous consideration ; the night will be far ad-= vanced, Ange, before we can return to Irish House, And then addressing the aca he added, resolutely. To Cornhill—Falkston’s shop. The carriage wus soon in motion. Ange, rejoined Rio Santo, whose voice evinced some emotion, you were talking of danger—the hour of danger is now near. So much the better, my lord, exclaimed Bem- bo; by the Loly angels, my patrons, so much tke better. The earriage stopped at the corner of Finch-) Jane in Cornhill. Rio Santo then continued in a) succint and easy tone: | Thus, caro, you have become my il camp yl scOmIcboOokS-co